


Hunger.

by aryas_zehral



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/M, consent issues through use of succubi powers, could be Bo/Dyson, might not be though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryas_zehral/pseuds/aryas_zehral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know this is wrong.  I know I should not be here.  Watching people sleep without their permission is creepy stalker behaviour and using the spare key - the hidden key - to get in here makes this a whole new level of weird.  I know this. I am ashamed.  I do not appear to be leaving.  </p><p>I am so hungry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger.

I run my hand gently down the smooth skin of his upper arm. It is firm, giving but with strength beneath. The muscle tightens and I glance to his face. His eyes are closed. He is sleeping still.

I know this is wrong. I know I should not be here. Watching people sleep without their permission is creepy stalker behaviour and using the spare key - the hidden key - to get in here makes this a whole new level of weird. I know this. I am ashamed. I do not appear to be leaving. 

I am so hungry.

My hand has moved from his arm to his chest. The skin here is warmer. For some reason this surprises me. Beneath my palm I can feel the pulse of his heart beating. I can feel the hair on his chest, let my fingers tangle in it, tug. He shifts in his sleep, makes a noise low in his throat, but when I look at his face again it is still peaceful. He is a heavy sleeper and I am sending reassurance through my fingertips. I have more control now than I used to; it comes in handy.

My fingers are circling his nipples. They are erect, taut and I long to taste them. I lean down, extend my tongue and lave at the nearest nubbin. He groans and I feel it low in my belly. I feel liquid, flowing, floating on a sea of chi even if that barrier has yet to be broken. My hand trails lower, stroke the softness of his belly, the sheet on his hips a natural stopping point. So far I have not altered or uncovered any part of him. I have contented myself with the skin already on display to the night air. I do not venture further until I feel the hand on my hair. 

I gaze up at him; my hair falls around my face, narrowing my field of vision to him, only him. His eyes are open but hooded, sleepy. He is awake but only just. He does not look angry or afraid only curious. His other hand comes up to draw the hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I am running my finger tips along the edge of the sheet, dipping below. I can feel rough hair but I wait for a sign from him before I go any lower. He must read this in my face because his eyes flutter and he nods. The hand in my hair urges me lower. It is all the permission I need. 

I slide the sheet over his groin and down to his thighs. He is naked below the fabric and he rears as the cold air hits his flush flesh. I am too hungry to be coy and he is not bared long to the air. Quickly I sheith him in my mouth. His hips jerk again involuntary and I push down on them to keep them still but also to feel the trembling strain in the muscle below my hand. Normally I would tease, would keep my touches light at first, deny him the tightness he desires. Normally I would draw this out, lapping at the whisps of chi that rise to the surface even before the main event. Normally, but not tonight. Tonight I start with suction, a firm tongue pressing on the underside of his cock tracing the veins where it can, using all the knowledge I have of him to send him quickly to his peak, drinking down his pleasure, his hips below my hands breaking through my confinement as he roars through his climax. It is a harsh, shocking conclusion and he pants as he calms down. I raise my head, hand still on his cock, stroking it distractedly. I watch him try to catch his breath, marvel in the sight. In my head his damp skin and trembling strength is replaced momentarily by the bodies of men I have been with before and I have to glance away into the darkness of the room to banish those memories. I know what I am. I don't have to kill to feed anymore.

He reaches down, grabs the top of my arm, and pulls me up to him. Our mouths meet in a clash of teeth and tongues. It is messy and unrestrained. It is glorious. My hands are tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he growls warningly in his throat. I do it again. He smiles as we kiss. His hands have found my hips, urge me over him, until I am straddling him. It is awkward. The skirt I am wearing is tight across my thighs, digging in, and I have to reach down, pull it higher, so that it no longer restricts me. 

His fingers are tracing my sex through the damp fabric of my panties. His other hand is palming my breast through my shirt. He is making no attempt to touch the skin below. As I place my hand back on his chest it occurs to me how unmatched this is: I am fully clothed still, my outside jacket still on, and he is naked below me. The power this gives me makes my insides twist in delighted pleasure. I bite at his lower lip, pulling back to grin at him as he surges below me. His cock, hard once more, nudges at my fabric covered sex, his fingers back on my thigh, digging in. 

I reach down below us, push the fabric of my underwear to one side, and grab his cock, lining it up so I can sink down upon him. I close my eyes at the sensation, grabbing a moment of selfishness to delight in the feeling of him stretching me, of the heat of him, of the direct connection between his chi and my power. I pause when our groins are flush against each other, rocking slightly to press against my clit. The alow movements are nice, tender, but I do not want that. I want immediacy. I want harshness and a hint of pain. I become restless, needing more- more movement, more pleasure, more chi. Tonight I am in the mood to take what I want and I do- one hand on his thigh, the other palming my own breast, as I surge above him setting a harsh, unforgiving rhythm. I am paying no attention to him except as an object to use and so am momentarily surprised to feel his hands settling on my hips. He uses his leverage to pull me even tighter to him, increasing the power of my downward thrusts. The world spirals in blue, the colour of his chi swirling up to meet the redness of my own, and I dig my nails into his leg, drawing blood. Below me he gasps, the pain tipping the scales and he climaxes inside of me, flooding me with energy. I can feel myself glow, feel my body meld itself into its best condition, the aches of the day - minor as they were - melting away. On the sea of his chi I come screaming. It is the first real noise we have made. It feels like a tear in the quiet of the night. 

I fall forward onto him, melding my lips with his and the night creeps back in, smothering our noises. I am sending him reassurance again and, combined with the energy our coupling has taken from him, he sinks quickly into sleep. I smile. It is not a kind smile and part of me is ashamed. I did not wish to spend more time that necessary here. I quickly untangle myself from him and his sheets, smoothing my skirt back down and pulling his sheet back over him. A quick drag of my hands through my hair and I am presentable once more smelling of sex and glowing with power. I walk out of his appartment without a glance backward, slipping the key back into place as I go.

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in a text file on my computer. I vaguely remember writing it, I think for oxoniensis's porn battle, but I'm not sure. Since it was written I thought I would share.


End file.
